


My Mind is A Prison (But You Have a Key)

by one_last_surprise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Relationships, Soft Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_last_surprise/pseuds/one_last_surprise
Summary: "I do trust you, kid," Tony ran a hand through his own hair, leaving it slightly askew. He took a breath, and matching Peter’s tone, said, "I trust you with everyone’s life except your own!""What about you?" Peter shouted, pointing to the metal arm. "You don’t seem to care about sacrificing yourself!"Peter didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across Tony’s face. Although it was what he’d been aiming for, he wasn’t sure it was really what he wanted to see.Now look what you’ve done. You think he’ll want to help now?"I’m just looking out for you," Tony said, his voice softer. It reminded Peter of the voice he’d woken up to after a particularly bad nightmare following his clash with the Vulture. It was a voice that could easily tear down his defenses and cause him to admit everything."Well maybe you should find a new hobby," Peter said curtly, "I have to go. Tell Morgan I’m sorry I couldn’t say bye." He handed Tony the final dish, spun around, and marched out the door.Or:Peter Parker can't catch a break. Enter Tony Stark.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	My Mind is A Prison (But You Have a Key)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my very first fic (omg omg omg)! I love the Irondad relationship and wanted to try writing some myself.
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments (any tips/tricks/advice greatly appreciated)!
> 
> The title is inspired by the song "Mind is a Prison" by Alec Benjamin.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

"Guess my mind is a prison / and I'm never gonna get out"

\---

"Maybe you need to put the suit away for a little while, Pete," Tony suggested softly. The two were cleaning dishes after their weekly dinner at the lake house. Pepper and Morgan had gone outside to pick some fresh flowers for the table. 

"What makes you say that?" Peter asked, scrubbing at a grease stain a little harder than necessary. He’d noticed the glances between Pepper and Tony during dinner, but he had foolishly hoped they’d been about Morgan, not him.

"You’ve just been so stressed lately, and it seems like you’re always on patrol. You’ve got classes and—" Tony reached out with his prosthetic arm to take the plate from Peter. 

"I’m not in high school anymore, Tony. I know how to handle it," Peter said sharply, staring out the window without really looking at anything. _You know he’s right,_ the voice in Peter’s head taunted.

"I’m not trying to insult you, kid, but have you looked in the mirror lately?" Tony tried making a joke. 

"I’m fine. I’ve just been busy," Peter said. _And not sleeping well,_ he added silently. It had been almost six years since they had defeated Thanos, but some days it felt like he was still in the midst of battle. 

"Look, Peter," Tony turned to face him, and Peter unwillingly met his gaze, "I know you’re in college now, but it’s okay to need help every now and again. And I’m still here for you, even if I’m old and slowly turning into a robot." Tony smiled, but his eyes were still ghosted with worry. Peter switched off the water faucet, drying his hands on a Spider-Man dishtowel he’d gotten Pepper for Christmas last year.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, focusing his gaze on Tony. "I know, Tony, but I’m fine. And I’m not a kid anymore. And you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do," he declared. Peter heard his voice get louder and felt his cheeks flush, but he refused to be the first to look away. Deep scars wove up his mentor’s neck and onto the right side of his face. Constant reminders of what had happened. Of what could have happened. _And it’s your fault,_ Peter’s thoughts supplied.

"Calm down, Peter. You think I don’t see what’s happening here?" Tony’s voice morphed into parent-mode. Peter froze for a second. Did Tony know he was one bad grade away from failing out of school? No, that was impossible. 

"Enlighten me," Peter said, not caring that he sounded like a smart-ass teenager instead of a mature 21 year-old. 

"Kid, you’re trying so damn hard to be perfect that you’re digging yourself farther and farther down a hole that someone else will have to pull you out of," Tony’s face was pained, his scars and wrinkles somehow more visible than usual, and Peter finally looked away. He was failing. Just like he always did. Tony had a family now, and he didn’t need to handle Peter’s burdens. 

"Maybe I don’t need you to pull me out of a hole," Peter was yelling now, but he didn’t care. "I can handle myself! I thought by now we’d moved past this. When will you ever actually trust me?" Peter wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to hold in the tears threatening to topple his resolve.

"I do trust you, kid," Tony ran a hand through his own hair, leaving it slightly askew. He took a breath, and matching Peter’s tone, said, "I trust you with everyone’s life except your own!" 

"What about you?" Peter shouted, pointing to the metal arm. "You don’t seem to care about sacrificing yourself!"

Peter didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across Tony’s face. Although it was what he’d been aiming for, he wasn’t sure it was really what he wanted to see. _Now look what you’ve done. You think he’ll want to help now?_

"I’m just looking out for you," Tony said, his voice softer. It reminded Peter of the voice he’d woken up to after a particularly bad nightmare following his clash with the Vulture. It was a voice that could easily tear down his defenses and cause him to admit everything.

"Well maybe you should find a new hobby," Peter said curtly, "I have to go. Tell Morgan I’m sorry I couldn’t say bye." He handed Tony the final dish, spun around, and marched out the door. 

"Peter, wait," Tony called after him. Silent tears ran down Peter’s face. It took everything in him to avoid looking back. 

Peter turned his phone off after three calls from Tony within ten minutes of leaving. He was sick of feeling inadequate. He was mad at himself for constantly screwing up, and the longer he thought about it, the more he realized the things he shouted at Tony were really what he was screaming at himself. He was an adult now, and he should be able to balance school, Spider-Man, and work. Nightmares shouldn’t keep him from sleeping, and he shouldn’t rely on the person who saved the entire fucking universe to help him fix his minuscule problems. 

Peter drove without really paying attention to where he was going. He’d driven the route often enough that he didn’t really need to anyways. The road was as familiar as swinging through Queens. He turned up the radio in a wasted attempt to drown out his thoughts. Peter finally stopped driving when he reached May’s apartment. He’d moved out when college started, but still being in the city, just borrowed her car whenever he needed one. Peter pulled the keys out of the ignition and rested his head on the steering wheel. He really did not want to face her right now. Peter took a deep breath, steadied his hands, and headed up to her apartment. 

"May? You home? I’m returning the car keys," Peter called as he unlocked the front door. He carefully listened for a response, trusting his enhanced hearing to pick up any sound of movement in the apartment. When no one replied, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He paused, soaking in the cozy scent of ginger and reassuring tinge of slightly-burnt food that was forever embedded in the kitchen. As he set the car keys on the counter, he noticed a sticky note pinned to the fridge:

_"Peter- I’ve gone out to dinner, see you later. <3 May"_

Finally, something was going right for him today. One look at May, and he would’ve crumpled into a puddle of tears on the spot. Peter hurried out of the apartment and began walking to his own. He eyed the backpack slung over his shoulder, debating whether or not to swing home. But he knew Tony would be able to track him if he did. Why had he even agreed to have a tracker in the first place? _Because you’re scared,_ his thoughts reminded him. After a quick subway ride, Peter was only a few blocks from his house. But the ride had been noisy and crowed with people leaving work, and Peter felt like a storm cloud was hanging over him: rain pouring onto his head, thunder roaring in his ears, and lighting flashing in his eyes. 

He stomped down the street, pausing as he passed a bodega. He wasn’t sure what made him decide to buy the alcohol. Maybe it was because he’d always been a little curious. Maybe it was because he was tired of the nagging voice in his mind telling him that he wasn’t good enough. Maybe it was because he’d just had the worst argument he’d had with Tony since high school. But he had some cash in his bag, beneath the balled up fabric of his suit, and the glass case was right in his line of sight. It was Friday night. He was 21. No one would care. 

Peter bought a fifth of vodka, a bottle of whiskey, and three six-packs of beer. If that wasn’t enough to get him drunk, well he wasn’t sure what would be. Typically, Peter liked being in control. In his line of work, clarity and precision were necessary. But tonight he just wanted to let go of everything.

"Having a party?" the cashier asked. 

"Something like that," Peter shrugged, tapping his foot against the linoleum floor. 

He haphazardly grabbed the paper bags, trying to keep the glass from clinking too much. He felt guilty. As much as he tried to push the feeling away, he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head. _And I wanted you to be better._ Words originally spoken to him by Tony that had now transformed into an accusation Peter threw at himself. Well, he had failed time and time again. What was one more screw up? Besides, it wouldn’t even be a big deal, he reasoned. He just wanted to get drunk and relax a little. Be a little more like everyone else his age.

Peter gripped the bags tightly as he walked through the brisk evening air, the smells of the city fading in and out with the breeze. His nose was assaulted with the odor of car exhaust and garbage, but, occasionally, the scent of flowers or fresh pizza greeted him. The sidewalk felt solid under his feet, and familiar skyscrapers rose around him. Peter hurried through the door of his apartment. It was a small, one-bedroom place within walking distance of his university. The walls were thin and the paint was peeling, but it was his. Most college students had roommates, but Peter wanted to be Spider-Man without worrying about someone else walking in and seeing him in the suit. Or hanging from the ceiling. It’d been a good idea at the time. The more he was Spider-Man, the less he had to worry about Peter Parker. But then his grades slipped. And then he lost his scholarship. So he started working to pay for rent. And his grades fell even more. Before he could even catch his breath, he was on academic probation. If he didn’t pull himself together, he’d be kicked out. On top of it all, his nightmares kept getting worse. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of bloody battles and fallen heroes filled his mind. And shit, he just really wanted to forget it all for a night. 

Peter rubbed his eyes, trying and failing to block out the disappointment on Tony’s face in the kitchen at the lake house. He stared at the bags before him and grabbed the vodka. He opened it up and began drinking straight from the bottle. He sputtered as the drink burned his throat, but after a few sips, he became numb to it. Peter finished the bottle, sighing as he realized that he was still 100% sober. 

Peter cracked open a beer, downing it like a glass of water. Still nothing, although his stomach did feel kind of queasy. Maybe he should have eaten something else before drowning himself in alcohol. Peter hesitated before reaching for another beer. Why did it matter if he ate or not? His stupid metabolism would burn through everything in an instant anyway. 

An hour later, or maybe two, Peter wasn’t really sure, he finally felt tipsy. His thoughts faded to the background as he lounged on the couch with a half-finished bottle of whiskey in his hand. His neighbor’s music pulsed through the walls. Empty beer bottles lay scattered around the small kitchen and living room. All that was on his mind was…nothing. It felt like the brief moment when he let go of a web and shot another while swinging through the city. An instant of free fall. An instant of freedom. Peter reveled in the relaxation for a grand total of five minutes before it drifted out of reach. He chugged the last of the whiskey, resisting the urge to throw the bottle against the wall when it did nothing to slow the tide of thoughts rushing back into his mind. 

_Not saving Ben. The ferry fiasco. Toomes and the warehouse. Not being strong enough on Titan. Ignoring Tony for two weeks after the surgery. Missing Morgan’s seventh birthday. Failing class after class. Not being able to sleep through the night. Letting Tony down. Not being good enough._

The thoughts tore through his mind, refusing to be ignored. Peter let the whiskey bottle fall to the floor as he buried his face in his hands and pulled his knees to his chest. He heard the bottle break upon meeting the ground, and it felt like his own body slammed into the floor as well. At the sound of shattering glass, Peter let tears that had been building up for weeks spill over. How could he be so stupid? He pounded his forehead against his knees as his stomach swirled. And why did he still care so much about stuff that happened years ago? It had been eight years since Ben died—13 if he counted the five years he missed from the snap—and Peter thought he had managed to move past it. The ferry incident had been ages ago. Tony and Peter had both changed a lot. In fact, Peter felt like he barely recognized that over-eager kid as himself. The fucking nightmares were undoing all the walls Peter had carefully constructed to protect himself. 

Peter’s enhanced hearing picked up the footsteps approaching before someone knocked on the door. 

"Shit," Peter whispered to himself, red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks snapping up to face the door. He glanced around the apartment and sucked in a breath. The place looked like a wreck. Empty bottles littered the room, and the broken glass glittered on the floor. Someone must have heard the whiskey bottle break. The knock came again, louder this time. 

"Open up, Underoos, or I’ll come in," a muffled voice said. Peter groaned. 

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he said, even as his heart skipped a beat at the sound of his mentor’s voice. Peter quickly swept the glass under the couch and pushed the beer bottles into the trash as best he could. 

"Just because I’m retired now doesn’t mean I have all d—" Tony paused, eyes widening, as Peter opened the door. _Shit, he probably looked like hell._ Peter ran a hand across his cheeks, as if he could erase the last few hours. 

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked, attempting to block Tony’s view of the apartment. He had grown taller than him, a fact that he typically like to tease Tony for. He didn’t feel taller, though. Tony was larger than life, a force to be reckoned with. Peter could only imagine having his courage.

"Well, you weren’t answering your phone—"

"I turned it off."

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier," Tony said, removing his tinted glasses. Peter took a step back. He hadn’t expected that. He quickly morphed his face back into something he hoped looked uninterested. 

"Really? The great Tony Stark has come to _my_ humble abode to apologize?" Peter cringed at the bitter tone to his voice. 

"Only if the Spider-ling lets me in," Tony replied, raising his eyebrows. Peter reluctantly shuffled to the side, allowing him to enter. Tony’s sharp eyes surveyed the scene. Peter looked around, trying to guess what Tony was thinking. 

The apartment was barely furnished. Peter had sold whatever he didn’t need during a particularly rough month. There were two uneven barstools at the counter in the kitchen, a ratty brown couch along one wall in the living room, and a TV that had been a move-in present against the other. A few shards of glass covered with the remaining drops of whiskey peaked out from under the couch. Peter gulped, realizing for the first time just how awful it looked. 

"Well, kid, the place looks a little emptier than it did the last time I was here. You need a decorator? Pep’s great with this sort of thing," Tony quipped. 

"I...um. Why are you here?" Peter’s mind spun, his stomach still full of alcohol. 

"I already told you," Tony rolled his eyes, "I thought short-term memory loss was a goldfish thing, not a spider thing."

"Ha-ha," Peter said. Tony sighed. 

"Okay, kid, take a seat," Tony sat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Peter rocked on his heels once before tentatively sitting down next to him on the edge of the cushion, his back rigid. 

"I’m sorry about the way I talked to you earlier, okay. I should have handled it better. Although, you probably could’ve been nicer, too," Tony bumped Peter’s should with his own, and despite himself, Peter leaned into the touch. "May is worried about you, and so am I, Peter. She says you won’t talk to her, and that you never let her come over anymore, and she asked if I could help. You know I’m not good at all this emotional stuff. But I said I’d try. So please Peter, tell me what’s going on."

Peter stared at the ground between his feet, but he could feel Tony drilling holes into his head with his eyes. 

"I’m not an idiot, Pete. I can see the bags under your eyes and the tears on your face and the glass on the floor. I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Let me help you." Deep in his heart, Peter knew that’s what he wanted. He wanted to tell Tony everything. He longed for Tony’s help. But his brain wouldn’t allow it. _You shouldn’t need help. He’ll realize you’re a lost cause. He’ll leave._ Peter rubbed his temple, hoping to dissipate the building tension.

 _"Idon’twanttobotheryou,"_ the words came out of Peter’s mouth so fast, he wasn’t even sure Tony understood them. Tony placed a tentative hand on Peter’s shoulder. The real one, Peter noted from the warmth. And then he internally kicked himself for still caring about the prosthetic.

"Why would it be a bother, Peter?" his mentor spoke slow, as if one wrong move would send Peter running like a frightened puppy. Peter shrugged. 

"You have your own family. And I’m an adult now, so..." Peter trailer off, swallowing his tears. It was hard to talk around the lump in his throat.

"Peter, look at me," Tony said, and the conviction in his voice was too much for Peter to ignore. "You are not a nuisance to me, okay? You’re practically my firstborn kid—a weird spider genius who almost as smart as me but ten times the man I could ever be. And I’m here to look out for you, no matter how old you are. Do you understand that?"

"But, Tony, I’ve failed so many times, and…" Peter sniffled, looking back at the floor. He felt like he was falling through deep water in a suit made of concrete, the pressure squeezing the air out of his lungs, and he tried to shoot webs to pull himself out, but there was nothing to hold onto. So he kept drowning. He wrung his hands in his lap. 

"And I haven’t? Peter, everyone has off days—or years. It’s okay to not be perfect."

"You wanted me to do better. To be better," Peter whispered, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes. He focused on the trails of burned tissue running down the side of his mentor’s face. You should’ve done more, the voice in his head accused.

Tony rubbed his good hand over his eyes. "Goodness, Pete. I said that to you ages ago. I was upset, and you were so damn young. You are better Peter. You’re better than me without even trying. Your heart, kid…It amazes me how truly _good_ you are without any ulterior motive,” Tony paused. Then, more to himself than Peter, "I can’t believe you’ve been beating yourself up for that." Despite Tony’s words, Peter still felt like he had failed too many times to have really done any good.

"But Ben, the ferry, not being strong enough on Titan—or after—and ignoring you after the surgery, missing Morgan’s seventh birthday, failing class after class, not being able to sleep through the night, letting you down. I’m a mess, Tony. I’m not good enough," Peter let everything tumble out of him. Tony was silent for a beat, and then he pulled Peter into a hug. Peter took a shuddering breath. A web had finally stuck to something. He wasn’t drowning anymore. Tony was a life raft keeping Peter afloat. He began sobbing into Tony’s shoulder, feeling like a lost teenager all over again.

"It’s okay, Peter," Tony murmured into his hair, rubbing slow circles on his back. After a few minutes Peter leaned back, wiping the few remaining tears from his eyes. 

"I’m too old for this," Peter said, hating how his voice wavered. 

"You’re never too old to need help, believe me," Tony smiled sadly at Peter, "Now let’s tackle that list."

“What?" Peter’s heart stammered. Had he really just exposed everything to Tony?

"Ben. Not your fault. You didn’t pull the trigger. The ferry? Yeah that was a mistake. But you were just a kid, and I should have known better than to let you roam around New York in a multi-million dollar suit without adult supervision. I mean, you weren’t even old enough to drive," Tony chuckled. Peter let out a small smile, Tony’s words slowly pulling the tidal wave in his mind back out to sea. 

"And the whole mess with...with Thanos. You were incredible, Pete. You were so damn strong. It was me that should have been stronger I should’ve..." Tony’s eyes drifted past Peter. 

"But if I…I’m enhanced. I could’ve done it. You almost died, Tony. If you had died…" Peter’s voice broke.

"No buts. We all made mistakes that day. But it’s over, and you did everything you could have. I made my decision, Pete. There’s no guarantee you would have fared any better than me. And I’m here, okay? I’m pretty hard to get rid of. What else is your big brain mad at you for?" Tony tapped Peter’s forehead. Peter leaned into Tony’s side, allowing the man to wrap an arm around him. Something about Tony was safe. They could be stranded in the middle of the desert, and Peter would still feel secure in Tony’s arms. He decided to let Tony into his messed up mind a little further.

"Ignoring you after your…" Peter pulled away and gestured to Tony’s arm, "and missing Morgan’s birthday when I was patrolling that one time." 

Tony thought for a moment before he continued. "Being a superhero sucks sometimes. It just does. Shit happens and things change in an instant. I don’t blame you for needing some time to process. And you’re not ignoring me now, right? So we’re all good there. Same goes for Morgan. She was so young she probably won’t even remember in a few years. And you were saving someone else, so I’m sure she would understand. Plus, you said it yourself, Peter. It was only one time.” Tony sounded convincing, but the voice in Peter’s head refused to back down, _You’re not cut out for this._

"You really mean all that?" Peter asked. 

"Every word," Tony said, looking Peter straight in the eyes. Peter let out a sigh of relief, the weight slowly falling off his shoulders in a way alcohol could never achieve. 

"Thank you, Tony," Peter said, enveloping the man in another hug.

"Of course, Pete. Anytime you feel like you’re falling and there’s no end in sight, you can talk to me. Okay?"

"Okay," Peter replied. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to follow through, but at least Tony didn’t think he was a waste of time. 

"Now about the last few things..."

"I was hoping you’d forgotten about those," Peter ducked his head and felt his cheeks grow red. 

"What’s going on at school?"

"School’s fine—" Peter started. 

"Come on, kid. We just talked about this. You don’t have to pretend everything is perfect. You know me; I’m about as far from perfect as it gets."

It was true. Over the years Tony had shared more about his past with Peter. How he had lived before Afghanistan. Before Iron Man. How he had become so fearful of losing everyone he loved that he almost destroyed it all. How he didn’t sleep because of the demons filling his dreams. Something clicked in Peter’s mind. 

He’d been so wrapped up in a prison of his own creation that he couldn’t see past the bars. He couldn’t see that someone holding a key was standing right on the other side, ready to help. He’d been telling himself that he was all alone when he actually had a guide just around the corner.

"I’m such an idiot," Peter whispered, shaking his head. 

"Hmm?" Tony mumbled.

"This whole time I thought no one could possibly understand what I was going through. I didn’t want to talk to May because she doesn’t get all the superhero stuff. She tries, she does, but it’s just not the same as...as talking to you," Peter met Tony’s eyes, and his heart swelled at the gleam in them that grew with his statement. "But I was so terrified of letting myself down that I told myself I was letting you down. The longer I pretended that was the case, and the more I pushed you away, the worse it got."

"Well I’m still here, on this disgusting couch, so you didn’t push me too far," Tony smiled at Peter. 

"I’m sorry," Peter said, "for everything. And for what I said earlier."

"It’s okay. People have yelled a lot worse at me. Y’know I think this is what a therapist would call a breakthrough," Tony said with a smirk, “Maybe I should change professions…Now, about those classes."

Peter hesitantly told Tony about his struggle to pay for school, be Spider-Man, and keep up his grades. After a fairly lengthy discussion, with Tony trying to pay tuition and Peter declaring that he didn’t want to take the man’s money for nothing, followed by Tony arguing that Spider-Man was technically a job and therefore Peter wouldn’t be doing nothing and Peter pointing out that Spider-Man didn’t make money, and that’s why he had gotten a job in the first place, Tony offered to cover his rent provided Peter prioritized his studies and hung out with some people his own age. Reluctantly, Peter agreed that this would include going on at least one date a month. 

"You are the only twenty-something kid I know who needs to be told to socialize, Pete," Tony shook his head. Peter rolled his eyes and laughed with him, his own smile growing bigger as the crinkles around Tony’s eyes grew. After a pause, Peter braved himself for another confession. 

"Does sleeping ever get easier? I mean has it...for-for you? I....I get nightmares. Like all the time now, and I don’t know...." Peter asked, afraid to hear the answer. Deep down he already knew what it would be. Tony sighed, rubbing his left wrist. 

"Honestly? For me, not really. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but sleep is the one thing I can’t seem to figure out. Well that, and properly mentoring a Spider-boy. It helps being with Pepper. When I wake up and see her there, it reminds me that I’m…that I’m not trapped in space or stuck watching everyone I know fade to nothing. Calling you helps, too. Hearing your voice, kid, it gives me proof you’re still here. I don’t like you living by yourself. Being alone gets fucking lonely. But you can call me, any time—day or night—just say the word, and I’ll talk you through it, okay? Or you can come over and crash on the couch, whatever helps. Maybe I could spring for a bed for you, if you ask nicely. Might even put it in a room—Just know that you’re not alone, Peter. I’m here for you."

"Thanks, Tony," Peter said, and a little piece of him felt hopeful that maybe he would be okay one day. _Or maybe you won’t,_ his mind taunted, but the words didn’t have much bite anymore.

"Last deep conversation for the night: what’s up with the broken bottle on the floor?" Tony raised his eyebrows. 

"Oh, um," Peter felt a blush creeping into his cheeks once again, "I tried to get drunk?" 

"And how did that work out for you?" Tony stifled a laugh. 

"Well, alcohol is no match for super metabolism. And all I got was a stomach ache," Peter replied, "So, yeah, I learned my lesson there."

"Good. Because trust me, you really don’t want to go down that road," Tony said, studying Peter intently. "Kid, you really are so much better than me. Maybe I should be the mentee. I’m so damn proud of you,” Tony was looking at him with the same delight May had worn during his high school graduation. 

_I just wanted to be like you._

__

__

_And I wanted you to be better._

"Really?"

"Without a doubt."

Peter let the words wash over him. They were soothing, dissipating the last of the storm that had been raging in his mind. 

"Sometimes I just don’t feel..." Peter paused, unsure if he should burden Tony with another one of his problems.

"I’m here, Peter," Tony extended an arm around Peter, pulling him into a side hug. Peter laid his head on Tony’s shoulder, and he felt Tony’s hand rest on his head. Tony began moving his fingers through Peter’s curls. He closed his eyes, melting into the familiarity of Tony’s touch and the comforting scent of motor oil, body spray, and soap that enveloped him. 

"Am I good enough? Like as Spider-Man? Or just, like, as a person?" Peter whispered, eyes still closed. 

"Yes, Pete. Of course. Don’t ever doubt that you’re good enough. You could be an actual spider—and a normal one, not radioactive one, and I’d still love you," Tony’s voice hitched, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. 

I love you. They’d said it once, after Tony had nearly died. Tony had been full of painkillers, and Peter had been floating in a fog, still covered in dirt and grime from the battle. A part of him wondered if Tony would ever say it again. But it had kind of been an unspoken thing since then. Shown through work days in the lab. Or colorful, chaotic family dinners. In inside jokes and late night talks. But never said out loud. Peter leaned away to look at Tony, wondering if the words had been an accident.

"I mean it, kid. I love you like you’re my own son and nothing will ever change that," Tony said, a rare slice of vulnerability cutting through his features. There they were again. Three words that lifted Peter higher than any storm clouds or thrashing waves could reach. 

"I love you too," Peter breathed, hoping the hug he gave Tony conveyed everything he felt. And as they leaned into each other, the voice in Peter’s head was rendered silent by the beating of Tony’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I will be posting more soon :)
> 
> This story definitely means a lot to me, and I am really excited that it's finally posted!


End file.
